


When the Adrenaline is Gone

by hideeho



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Boys working things out, Eddie did not agree to have so many feelings, Evan Buckley is a human support system, Failed Rescue, First Kiss, M/M, Mentions of War, Panic Attack, Serious Discussions, slight descriptions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideeho/pseuds/hideeho
Summary: Eddie has a bad day. Buck is there to get him through it.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 80
Kudos: 686





	1. Chapter 1

By the time they get to the third floor the smoke is so thick he can’t see more than a few inches in front of him. The familiar brush of Buck’s shoulder against his own grounds him as they continue to push their way forward. In the chaos of a raging fire, Buck’s presence is the one reliable constant.

A strangled plea from the next room has him sparing a glance to Buck. He doesn’t need to see under Buck’s mask to know he was smirking, eyes set and determined as he takes the lead. He’d chalk it up to Buck’s continued quest to prove his place after the lawsuit, but they had been playing this game since day one. Not that Eddie minded. On a good day following behind Buck came with a nice view, but those were thoughts for a different day when a building wasn’t crumbling down around them.

They find her cowering in the hallway, face streaked with soot and tears. Flames are licking at the walls as the smoke swirls around them. Buck towers over her large and formidable in his uniform, but he’s quick to crouch down to her level, reaching a hand out to coax her out. She’s trying to pull Buck towards the flames, even as he tries to explain to her that she’s going the wrong way.

Eddie frowns as his patience wears thin. If she’s not already suffering from smoke inhalation she will be by the time they get her downstairs. “Buck,” he shouts urgently, “We need to go. _Now_.” As if that wasn’t painfully obvious.

“No! My husband is back there! _Please_. We can’t leave him!”

Before either of them can respond a large popping noise breaks through the roar of flames and the crackling of wood and plastic. On instinct he is pushing Buck to the ground next to the woman, shielding them both with his body. Errant pops continue to cut through the air and despite the stifling heat he feels a cold chill trail down his spine.

“What the hell, man,” Buck starts, trying to push himself back up only to have Eddie push him down again. “What are you doing?.”

“It’s gunshots,” he mutters, as if trying to believe it himself. “It’s _gunshots_ ,” he repeats, looking for the source through the nearly impenetrable smoke.

“Gunshots? Why would someone be shooting at us?” “Are you storing ammo in here,” Eddie demands, turning himself to the woman.

“ _Are you storing ammo in here_?” The woman has the decency to look bashful as she nods. “How much?”

“I don’t know. He keeps boxes of it on the top shelf of the closet. I told him he shouldn’t store so much but--” Whatever she was going to say is cut off by a sudden coughing fit that wracks her entire body. “Please, please. He’s still back there. _Please._ ”

Buck moves to stand and Eddie finds himself pulling him down with more force than necessary. He was not playing hero. Not now. Not like this. “Cap, we have a situation,” Eddie says over the radio, one hand still on Buck in case he tries to do anything. “We have a civilian who hasn’t been located and we have ammo being set off by the heat. We’ve heard at least four shots and there will be more.”

“I can get him,” Buck insists, but Eddie’s shaking his head, flinching as another pop goes off.

“Unless you have a safe route I want the both of you out of there.” Cap’s voice is firm over the radio. “We can reassess when you’re out here.” The news is met with renewed wailing as the woman pulls desperately on Buck’s hand. He knows before the other man says anything that he wants to do something outrageously stupid.

“Cap, we can’t wait. This building will be too far gone by then,” Buck urges over the radio. “It’s stored on the top shelf, right? So I stay low, get him and drag him out. I can do it.”

Fuck.

“I’ll go,” he finds himself saying, just as surprised as he knows Buck looks.

“No!”

“Yes.”

“You can’t go. You have Christopher.” Eddie glares from behind his mask. It was a cheap shot and they both know it.

“And you’re on blood thinners. If I get--Look, I have a better shot getting myself and her husband out in one piece should there be any complications. Don’t argue, you know I’m right,” he insisted, moving to crawl past them. “Get her out of here. She has breathed enough smoke as it is. I’ll be right behind you,” he insisted, reaching out to squeeze Buck’s shoulder as he passed.

And just like that he finds himself army crawling down the hallway.

His oxygen tank is heavy against his back, his breath heavy behind his mask as he slowly makes his way down the highway. Conditions are not ideal, but the sweet rush of adrenaline pushes his forward. Then the pops are back.

He startles more with each pop. Breathes harder. Tells himself it’s just the exertion. He knows it’s not.

Before there was Buck and the woman to focus on. Now there is only him. Him and a man he has yet to find. He feels the sweat trail down his neck, his palms increasingly damp as he forces himself forward. He’s fine. He’s fine. He can do this.

He can barely see his gloves where he places one hand in front of the other as he crawls into the next room. “Fire department, call out! _Fire department!_ ”

It takes him a moment to realize he has crawled into something sticky. His brain works to process why there is oil on the floor before he registers that it’s blood. He finds the body next; neck ripped open by a random bullet. The blood flows from the wound, but there is no gurgle of clinging life. He had died before they ever reached the third floor.

His skin is pale, his eyes glassy and Eddie knows no life saving measures will bring him back now. This was far from the first body he had seen killed by a bullet; simply the first killed by a bullet that didn’t come from a gun.

“Eddie, check in. Eddie, what’s your status.”

It takes him a moment to register the radio on his shoulder. He shakes off the defeat of the loss, saying a silent prayer for the man as he reaches for his radio. “Cap, I was too late. He’s D-O-A, I’m evacuating n--”

A string of pops goes off and he can hear the shrapnel ricochet off the walls. It’s impossible to determine where the bullets are striking but he finds himself falling to the floor, coming face to face with the dead man, his blood coating the side of his mask and further obscuring his vision.

The pops continue and he jerks violently with each one, his breath coming out in harsh gasps. Move. Move. He needs to move. Eddie stares down at confusion at the floor beneath him, scrambling to dig into the sand to propel himself up--No, carpet. It’s beige carpet. It’s not sand. He’s not in Afghanistan.

That man didn’t die in an explosion. He’s not being shot at. The smell is burning installation and carpet; not steel and diesel. He knows that. _He knows that._ But ammo keeps popping and suddenly he can’t breathe.

He squeezed his eyes against the continued bursts of ammo going off, waiting for the piercing scream of metal to rip through his body.

“Eddie, check in. Eddie?” Cap.

“ _Eddie, where the hell are you?_ ” Buck.

An alarm. An alarm? Oh, his oxygen tank was running low. Because he was in a fire. Fuck, he was in a fire. No, no, that wasn’t right. He had a full tank, he had--Oh. Right. He wasn’t controlling his breathing. Too much gasping. Too many desperate pulls of oxygen. He was burning through his tank and he’d laugh if he could only get in the air.

He’s gasping against his mask and in the back of his mind he knows what this is. A panic attack. Okay, it was a panic attack. He could still move. He needed to move. When his convoy got attacked he was the one to stay calm. He was the one to keep going. How did he keep going? Help. Others needed help. Only this time he was alone. The other man was dead and staring lifeless back at him and he couldn’t remember how to move. It was too hot. There was much smoke and he couldn’t _breathe_.

There was no one who needed him to save them. No one who needed him. No one--

Christoper.

He had Christoper.

“Help. Tank. Low. Help,” he gasped against his radio. Eddie fought to pull himself forward. One hand, then the other. One hand, then the other. His eyes burned as he dragged himself down the hall; struggling to gasp in the last fumes of his tank weighing down his back.

He’s alone and then he’s not.

Strong hands pull him forward, before yanking him up and dragging him along. Buck. Of course it was Buck who came running back in. It shouldn’t have been him. If he got hurt--He’d yell at him as soon as he could breathe again. Buck might only be a few inches taller, but Eddie’s feet struggle to keep up the pace as his vision blurs. He holds on to Buck as much as he can manage. He thinks Buck might be saying something, but he can’t seem to piece it together. It sounds nice though. Comforting, maybe.

He doesn’t register he’s outside until his helmet and mask are pulled away by large familiar hands. He reaches out in instinct, but soon Hen is there placing an oxygen mask over his mouth. He could cry it tastes so sweet.

It’s not long before Buck is back crowding his space, searching him for injuries that he won’t find. “Buckaroo, give us some space. Let us look him over.”

“No, he’s hurt. There is blood on his helmet and--”

Eddie thinks he’s saying _not mine_ , but he can’t be sure. Just shakes his head as he tries to pull of the mask. “Not a chance, mister. Keep the mask on,” Hen chides softly. He’s not used to seeing that look of worry on her face directed at him. He doesn’t like it.

“Maybe something struck his tank! He shouldn’t be out. They were full, they--” Eddie grabs Buck’s hand; silently urging him to stop. They couldn’t know what happened in there. If he couldn’t be trusted to keep his shit together then he’d be out of a job. If he was out of job then he wouldn’t be able to pay for Christopher’s medical bills, or schooling or therapy or the surf lessons and--

He doesn’t realize his gasping again until Buck squeezes his hand, kneeling in front of him to make sure the oxygen mask is secured. He closes his eyes and leans forward to rest his forehead on Buck’s shoulder.

He’s not sure how much time passes before he raises his head, but Buck’s still holding his hand when he does. He held Buck's hand once. Buck had been pinned under a firetruck. Eddie had got himself in this situation through his own weakness. He hated himself for it. 

Maybe it should be strange to hold his best friend’s hand, but it’s warm and soft and slowly he feels like he’s coming back to his own body. If Buck thinks it’s odd he doesn’t show it, just looks at him as if trying to figure out a puzzle that’s missing half its pieces.

“Let’s just focus on making sure Eddie is okay. We can figure the rest out later,” Cap says calmly, giving Hen and Chim a look he can’t quite decipher. “Let’s get you to the hospital for an examination.” Eddie is quick to shake his head but stops at the look Cap is giving him. “Just a precaution. Today was a tough call, but we all made it out. That’s what matters.”

* * *

Four hours and one more hospital bill later, his body aches as he leans against the door frame for support as he struggles to find the right key. Buck hovers behind him as if he might fall over at any moment and he'd mock him for it if he didn’t think he might be right. Eddie knew he was only four years older than Buck, but today that might as well have been four decades.

“ _Bucky!_ ” Eddie smiles as Christopher runs towards the taller man for a hug, his crutches clacking against the floor. “Oh, I see how it is,” he says with a grin, raising an eyebrow at his son as Buck picks him up with a twirl, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Hi, daddy! I missed you too.”

“Mmhm, it’s okay. I know I can’t compete.” His chuckle quickly turns into a wracking cough as he clutches his chest.

“You okay there, Mr. Hot Stuff,” Carla asks cautiously. “You look like you’ve had a day.”

“I’ve had a day,” he concedes, smiling as a small hand traced the curve of his chin.

“It’s okay, daddy. You’re home now.” He really has no idea how he got so lucky with this kid.

Carla sees herself out as Buck occupies Christopher for the next hour before bed. For once Christopher doesn’t fight to stay up and hang out with Buck; as if he knows Eddie doesn’t have it in him. He was far too perceptive for his age and Eddie hates that for him. Knows it’s one more sin he has to atone for.

With Christopher tucked into bed he makes his way slowly to the kitchen, his entire body aching from the adrenaline fallout. “Beer?”

“You sure that’s a good idea after the day you had today?”

“Says the man who drinks on blood thinners.”

“Touche, but you're supposed to be the mature one.”

He places the bottles back in the fridge with a snort before moving to collapse on the couch. Buck sits beside him, long legs stretched out until his knee is pressed flush against his own. “What happened today?”

“Pretty sure you were there for the fire.”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Buck snaps in exasperation. “Your tank was full before we got that call. You shouldn’t have run out like that.”

“I know.” Eddie closed his eyes and leaned his head back about the cushion. He could feel Buck’s leg bounce up and down in impatience, but the other man didn’t push. Eddie sat there in silence, willing the conversation away. He could feel Buck’s leg move faster and faster and finds himself reaching out to put his hand on his knee, stilling the movement. He knows that nervous tick. Hell, he's had that nervous tick.

Buck’s leg calms under his touch; even as his whole body tenses beside him.

“I need to go back to therapy.”

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Buck breathes, his whole body relaxing as he angles towards him. “Good. I mean, that’s what you should do if that’s what you need. I know you didn’t really like Frank, but I’ve actually done some research for you. I’ve even found a few therapists with military service that take our insurance. I thought maybe you would gel more with--”

Eddie would laugh if he wasn’t sure it would turn into a sob. Of course he had done research. Of _course_ he had. A few months ago he might have been annoyed about the presumption, but this was Buck. He would do anything for someone he cared about, even if they didn’t ask him to.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I have food on my face.”

“I’m not, I just--” If he were a braver man he might tell him that he didn’t know how he got so lucky to have a friend like him, especially when he won the lottery in the kid department. He might even tell him that he didn’t know how he’d do any of this without him. Buck was that kind of brave. He wore it all on his sleeve, casualties be damned. Buck deserved that kind of brave. He saved his life today. “I’m lucky. To have you. To have you as a friend. You saved my life today.” A friend whose knee his thumb was tracing patterns on.

Buck shrugged off the compliment. “I have your back and you have mine. Goes both ways.”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” And suddenly Buck is shifting closer to him, his long arm sliding behind him as his thigh presses hotly against his own. For a moment he thinks Buck’s eyes dart down to his lips, but he tucks that thought away for a night when his brain is firing properly.

“If something happens to me--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, nothing is going to happen to you, Eddie. I won’t let it.”

“Buck, please, I just,” he sighs, dragging his hand roughly down his face. “I need to know things are taken care of if I’m going to keep running into burning buildings. I can’t have that hanging over my head. And I get if this is too much. I get if you don’t want any part of this and I don’t want to burden you. I _won’t_ burden you, but you’ve become my person here.” He sounds desperate and he hates himself for it.

“You’re not a burden,” Buck whispers, his brow furrowed. “I know everyone thinks I’m the punk kid, but that’s not who I want to be. I want to be that person you can go to. It means a lot to me that you’d trust me that way. More than you know. So go ahead, tell me this information that I am never _ever_ going to need.”

Eddie finds himself smiling and half wonders if he’s still oxygen deprived and delirious.”My will is in the fire safe in the hallway closet. Between Shannon’s life insurance policy and my own Chris’ medical bills and schooling will be taken care of. He’ll have my G.I. bill for college.” Buck shifts uncomfortably, but he carries on before he can chicken out. “I want to name you as my power of attorney for medical decisions. I want to be an organ donor. If something happens to me I don’t want to be left on machines.”

“Eddie…”

“Look, my family is a bit too Catholic in that way. They won’t want to pull the plug. You know the difference between a body and a shell. I don’t want to waste away on machines if my mind if gone. I just need to know...I need to know that someone cares about me enough to make the hard choice. If you don’t want to I won’t hold it against you.”

There is a long pause between them as Buck seems to be struggling to process the direction of this conversation. Buck’s arm slides down to rest across his shoulder, his thumb tracing circles on his bicep.

“You can count on me. I’m your person,” he said cautiously, as if waiting for Eddie to change his mind. “But if you ever make me use this information I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you myself.”

Eddie feels himself shaking with the release of the breath he was holding, his head lolling to the side to rest in the crook of Buck’s neck. “Fair enough. _Thank you._ ”

He’s left feeling raw and exposed. On a better day he would have removed himself from Buck’s side with a joke and a change of conversation.. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him. Maybe when he was a child? Eddie had always been the strong stoic one. It was nice to let go for a change; nice to know someone cared enough to catch him.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t know how you have some much to give after everything you’ve been through this year.”

“You say that like I’m making some great sacrifice. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do. I _want_ to be here, Eds. With you. And Christopher. With you and Christopher.” And he sounded so goddamn _genuine_ Eddie couldn’t help but believe him.

“I love you, man,” he exhaled, kissing the exposed skin of Buck’s throat next to where he had nestled his head. He hadn’t even considered the strangeness of the action until Buck startled beneath him. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you un--”

“ _No_ ,” Buck interrupted quickly, arm drawing Eddie back in from where he was scrambling up. “You just caught me off guard is all. I don’t--I mean--You can do that. Again. Or not. Whatever. I didn’t mind.”

He was close enough to Buck to see the faint pink tinge begin to color up his neck, his breaths coming out a touch faster. And _oh_ , that felt like something. Something as dangerous and treacherous as a live wire. Eddie shifted so he was angling closer to Buck, his lips hovering against the long column of his neck. “Here?”

“Yes.” Eddie placed a feather-lite kiss before he could think through all the reasons why this was a truly terrible idea.

“Here?”

“ _Yes._ ” And so he continued; asking permission with his lips close enough to brush against skin every so slightly with each syllable. He felt the bob of the other man’s adam’s apple as he swallowed, the scratch of stubble on the sharp line of his chin, the plump flesh of his cheek, the curve of his birthmark that he had traced in his mind a hundred times before.

He could feel Buck’s warm breath against his lips as he drew closer; his thigh twitching slightly under his hand where his palm rested heavily against it. When had he done that? Didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was about to blow everything up with a single question.

" _He--_.” Buck didn’t give him time to finish, surging forward to meet his lips with his own. Just like that Eddie was pushed back against the couch, fingers full of blond hair as the other man crowded every inch of his space. Not that he minded. Buck kissed him with the ferocity of a man’s last act on earth. Eddie eased back gently, slowly the pace of kiss as traced Buck’s lower lip with his tongue.

He didn’t want this to be an end of the world kind of kiss. He wanted this to be the first kiss of many. A start of things; not the means to an end. He needed Buck to know there was a difference.

“Guess I should nearly die more often.” Buck let out a bitter laugh against his mouth, teeth nipping at his bottom lip in protest.

“That’s not funny.”

“No, no, I guess it’s not. Still. I’ve had worse days all things considered.”

“You really scared me today.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

“For this?” Buck pulled back slowly, bracing himself for a blow Eddie was never going to give. “No, not this. This I can live with,” he smiled, thumb tracing the line of Buck’s jaw before pulling him down for another kiss.

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere.” He believed him.


	2. Chapter 2

He goes back to therapy. 

A few false starts lead him to a former Marine who Buck had found during his research. She can relate to him from actual experience and he finds it makes all the difference. It doesn’t hurt that she’s not afraid to call him on his shit. 

There are no earth shattering breakthroughs or life changing revelations. Therapy, he finds, is a series of quiet realizations. 

“So why do you think you haven’t told him about your panic attack?”

“He knows,” Eddie challenges, crossing his arms across chest, before quickly dropping his arms to his sides before she can call out his defensive movement. Judging by the arch of her brow she hadn’t missed the action. 

“How do you know he knows?”

“Because he was there! He knows.” Probably. Most likely. It was months ago. They’ve moved on. He’s good now. He doesn’t see a point in bringing it back up. 

“Eddie, I know you haven’t had a panic attack since then, but that doesn’t change the fact you had one on a call. Don’t you think your boyfriend, your _partner_ on the job should know? That he would _want_ to know?” 

“Buck has been through enough this year. We’re in a really good place right now. I don’t want to add more to his plate.”

“You don’t think he can handle it?”

“I _know_ he can handle it. Buck is one of the strongest people I have ever met. Hell, he might be the strongest.”

“So why do you insist on treating him like he’s weak?”

Well, shit. “That’s not--I’m not--”

“Eddie, needing help is not a weakness. It’s human. You’re human. If Buck came to you for help would you think he was weak? A burden? No, you wouldn’t. So maybe you need to give him a bit more credit.”

“It’s really annoying how you’re right all the time,” he grumbles, his lips twisting up in a wry grin as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“Not all the time, but I’m right about this. I look forward to hearing about how your talk goes next time you’re here. Same time next week?”

“Same time next week,” Eddie agrees, lifting himself up from the couch to make his way out of her office. His two favorite people are there to greet him as he exits the building and makes his way out to the parking lot. 

This is by far his favorite part of therapy. 

“Family date night,” Buck yells, sticking his body half out the window of the truck like an overeager puppy. He honks on the horn in emphasis as Christopher cheers vibrantly from the back seat. Eddie’s rolling his eyes, even as a large smile takes over his face. 

Regardless of who was attending therapy, they always end the session with pizza and video games. Buck’s idea, naturally. It isn’t long before Christopher is counting down the days until the next session and even Eddie finds himself looking forward to going. 

“Restrained as always, Buckley,” Eddie teases, sliding into the passenger seat and reaching over to give Buck a quick kiss, his hand sliding to rest on his thigh and staying there. 

“Why on earth would I be restrained? I want everyone to know that I’m with the two best boys in the world. Isn’t that right, Chris?”

“Yeah!” 

Eddie allows himself to live in the warmth of this moment. Realistically he knows that inevitably the other shoe will drop, but he’s tired of undercutting the good times as a way of armoring himself for the bad ones. He’s pretty sure his therapist would consider this growth. 

“What did you guys talk about, daddy?”

Perhaps it was because he was with his two favorite people, Buck’s finger’s intertwined with his own as the sun warmed his skin. Perhaps it was because he was staring ahead and couldn’t see their reactions. Perhaps it was because he was more content than he could ever remember being. Whatever the reason, Eddie is ready to be honest. 

“Well, buddy, remember how I told you about how Buck saved me a few months ago?”

“Like Captain America!” 

“Like Captain America,” he agrees, sparing a quick glance at the faint pink on Buck’s cheeks as he glowed under the praise. He pauses for a moment, gathering his strength in the way Buck is squeezing his hand. “We talked about how scared I was that day. About how I had a panic attack and what we can do to try to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

The silence in the car is thick and he has to resist the urge to pull his hand away. To shield himself for the questions. Or worse, the judgement. 

“What’s a panic attack?” 

There was no judgment in his son’s voice. No concern or anxiety. Just curiosity. He doesn’t know what Buck’s thinking, but he’s still holding his hand and it’s enough for him to carry on. “It’s when someone gets really, really scared or anxious. It’s different for everybody, but for me it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I couldn’t move.”

“Oh...like after I have a really bad nightmare.” 

“Yeah, buddy. Like that.” 

“And Buck helped you like you help me after a nightmare?”

“He did.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Christopher is on to the next thing, telling him all about the game they had picked out while he was in therapy. Buck was unusually quiet and Eddie finds himself looking at everything except the man sitting next to him. The only thing calming the racing thoughts in his head is the warm swipe of Buck’s thumb tracing patterns along the top of his hand. 

Eddie busies himself with helping Christopher out of the truck when they get home. It’s not that he’s avoiding Buck. It’s just that he’s a fucking coward who is absolutely avoiding Buck. He’s not used to showing weakness and he’s struggling to let himself be so exposed. 

“Hey Chris, why don’t you get the game setup while me and your dad get the pizza ready?” 

The patter of crutches against wood floor gets fainter as his son busies himself in the other room. Eddie forces himself to breathe as Buck spins him around gently until he pinned against the counter; Buck’s hands warm and firm on his shoulders. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a panic attack,” he says, firm, but not accusatory. 

“I figured you knew.” Judging by the look on Buck’s face he did, but there is a difference between knowing and being told. 

Buck’s hands slide from his shoulders to his face, his long fingers holding his head in place as his thumbs rested against the pulse point on this throat. He could feel his heartbeat in his chest, but he felt grounded by the baby blues looking so lovingly back at him. His own hands find Buck’s hips, pulling him a step closer. “I’m glad you told me. Told us.”

“A wise woman who I pay a lot of money to thought it would be a good idea.”

Buck snorts lightly, bending to press his forehead against his own. “Smart woman. What absolute genius told you about her?”

“Some young punk. A bit mouthy, but he has a great ass.”

“You like that mouth.”

“I love that ass,” Eddie smirks, sliding his hands down to squeeze the firm flesh of his boyfriend’s ass. Buck slides a thigh between Eddie’s legs, warm and firm as lips find lips. Eddie lets out a content sigh as Buck’s fingers pull at the small hairs at the base of his head, all the invitation Buck needs to lick his tongue into his mouth. It's easy to get lost in this; hard muscle and plush lips. His teeth pull at the lobe of Buck's ear, delighting in vibration of Buck's moan against his cheek.

“You’re _supposed_ to be making pizza,” Christopher sighs, sharp disapproval pointed at them behind slightly askew glasses. Buck quickly buries him face in the crook of Eddie’s neck in embarrassment as Eddie hides a laugh. He quickly brings his arms up to hug Buck in a far more appropriate embrace. 

“Sorry about that, kiddo. We’ll get right on it.” 

“Mmhm,” is all the reply they get before he makes his way back out of the kitchen. 

“Oh. My. God.”

“It’s fine, Buck.”

“You were grabbing my ass!”

“Funny, I don’t remember you complaining.”

“Stop laughing! This is not funny. I’m serious! We’ve probably scarred him for life!”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m already paying for his therapy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was meant to be a one shot, but KGquest hoped for a continuance and suddenly this demanded to be written. Kudos and comments are always appreciated! They really do mean so much.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! Now I'm going to go cleanse myself with some FLUFF.


End file.
